by Bryan James
As I raised my gun, I saw the closest creature suddenly slump and fall over on itself, a spray of red and white shooting out of the back of its head. Then the next, and the next. Within seconds, the entire front rank of the cohort had fallen, heads destroyed by the snipers positioned on the roof of the control tower, who finally had a shot through the fading mist.
My comms crackled as a serious voice asked calmly over the net, “You have a plane to catch, sir? I reckon you ought to make haste. Good luck.”
I raised a hand toward the control tower in silent salute, then turned back to the plane.
Kate and Ky were already at the door, climbing up and hoisting the dog up an extendable ladder. The huge engines were increasing the power to the blades, and they spun faster as the huge machine moved forward slowly. We reached the side of the plane, and I yelled as loud as I could to Rhodes.
“Get up!” I swung the shotgun down and scanned around us, watching for the closest creature. Behind me, I heard him start up the ladder, and Kate’s voice crackled in the ear bud from inside the plane.
“Mike, we need to go now. They are close to blocking off the runway.”
Cursing, I saw the two groups mindlessly moving toward a meeting in front of the nose of the plane, only five hundred yards distant. I turned and grabbed the closest rung, but as I did, a hand shot from underneath the plane and grabbed my ankle. Surprised, I thrashed, and Kate’s eyes widened, moving toward me. I shook my head and yelled into the cabin.
“Go, go, go!”
The engines immediately started to roar with increased throttle, as the pilot aimed the plane sharply to the south, putting the river to our left and the terminals to our right.
The hand below gripped tight to the metal plates of the shin protector, and the head of the creature came into view. I couldn’t tell if it had been a man or a woman—the hair had all fallen out, and both eyes were a fluid-filled, misty white. A jagged tooth stuck crookedly from the dirty mouth, and I simply stared for a full three seconds, remembering.
We had been inside a long time. It had been a long time since I looked into the face of death, so close.
I didn’t bother with a knife, or a gun. As the plane accelerated rapidly, the gravity force pulling the creature away, I simply reached down, put my hand on the creature’s face, and twisted the head completely around. The spine snapped, severing the connection between the brain and the body. The hand went limp, and as the plane moved quickly down the only runway not covered with the dead, I climbed up the ladder.
As I moved deeper into the cabin, which was alight with control panels, digital readouts and screens, and working chairs, I thanked the airman closing the door and moved toward the cockpit.
The pilot and copilot sat staring at the crowd of creatures approaching from the river and the terminal, even as they moved their hands over the controls.
“What’s the hold up, let’s move.” I said, rudely. Then, belatedly. “Sorry, guys. Tough day. We got a problem?”
They didn’t flinch, and the colonel in the pilot’s seat was calm. “Yes, Mister McKnight. The runway we are on is a little too short. But we are going to have to give it a shot. Our bigger problem is that group on the port side of the plane. They are going to cut us off if we take off to the south. One or two in the blades isn’t a problem. A hundred will put us in the water.”
I cursed and followed his gaze. There were thousands, lining the entire length of the narrow strip of land along the river. There were too many, and they were too close.
“Go. I’ll figure it out,” I said, and disappeared.
In my headset, I heard the curt order. “Throttle up.”
The plane shot forward as I grabbed the sole airman in the cabin with us and pulled the hood from my head, nodding quickly toward the large 25mm Gatling-style gun protruding from the plane on the port side.
“Son, those cannons work?”
“Yes sir. They’re locked and loaded.”
“Well, they’re pointing in the right direction. What say we pretend like our asses are on the line and play mow the zombies?”
He started in surprise, as if just realizing that they were an option, then shot toward the controls, flipping two switches and grabbing a control lever.
“These were never meant for use on the ground,” he said. But then he smiled. “But I always wanted to try it.”
The humming sound of a 7,000 round per minute Gatling gun vibrated through the cabin, and Kate stood up to join me at the window. The guns were angled toward the front of the plane, and he was taking down entire swathes of the creatures as the shambled near the path of the plane as it accelerated toward the river on the south side.
I glanced forward, and saw the rapidly approaching end of the runway, and the concentration on the pilots’ faces. A warning bell started to chime.
“Runway length decreasing. Abort take off. Abort take off.”
The cannon fired incessantly, plowing a path as the zombies moved inexorably toward our path. Isolated creatures made it through, some passing harmlessly under the wings, several slamming into the whirling blades and disintegrating.
The plane started to vibrate heavily, and Romeo barked.
Ahead, the river was close.
Very close.
Kate’s hand was tight on my arm, as the co-pilot cursed loudly.
We weren’t going to make it.
The gun whirred smoothly, creatures continuing to fall.
The pilot suddenly barked over the comms.
“Now!”
Both men pulled back on the throttle as the nose ran out of concrete.
The river was there, and we were on top of it. A loud crack and a terrifying lurch threw us all sharply, then the nose pulled up slightly, at a gentle angle. Barely more than ten degrees. I could still see the river. And the ripples in the water.
Jesus, there were hundreds of thousands of those things in the river.
The airman at the controls stopped the firing, and leaned back, staring out the front of the plane. Hotels and apartment buildings lined the river, then we were over Old Town Alexandria, then the 395 bridge, then we were banking hard to the left, still merely a hundred feet from the river’s surface, but safely in the air.
I looked at the airman next to me and smiled.
“That was fun, huh?”
He grinned.
“Yes sir. Never seen Washington D.C. before.”
Somehow, that made me feel better about the world at that moment.
EIGHT
“I told you, I was hardly ever in any danger,” said Ky, trying in vain to convince us as we stared at her, the three of us sitting alone in the back of the large cabin. I held a half-full water bottle in my hand and absently swirled the contents as I gave her an unconvinced look.
Other than the electronics and some crates strapped to the metal floor, the interior of the cabin was stripped, and bare bones. Some jump seats and a cargo net in the back finished it out, and the mechanics for the weaponry were prominent in the small space, somehow out of place in the interior of a large plane. It was like a long, flying tank.
Somehow off-putting, but definitely secure.
“What the hell do you mean? You left the safest damn place in the world, snuck into a subway tunnel…”
“A safe subway tunnel…” she emphasized, trying to head off Kate’s rant.
“… and snuck or fought your way through a crowd of undead, on your way to possibly make a split-second rendezvous with an airplane that you might or might not get aboard, and that might or might not crash into an army of zombies. How on god’s green and rotten effing earth is that safe?”
She twirled a crossbow bolt in her hand absently.
“You make it sound worse than it was,” she replied in that infuriating teenage tone. Kate’s breath drew in and I checked her hand to make sure it wasn’t straying toward her pistol.
Clenched fist? Check.
Pistol? Negative.
Parenting win.<
br />
“Listen, I think we can all acknowledge how stupid this was…” I began, until fielding the look from both of them that made me want to sing soprano. Valiantly, I stopped talking.
“How did you survive even one foot outside the subway? For that matter, how did you get out of the subway? The Army had it locked down and welded shut past National.”
The plane shuddered once, and banked slightly, causing Ky to slide slowly toward me. I put my foot out and stopped the creeping crate upon which she was perched. Ky threw me a quick smile in thanks.
Kate did not.
“I told you. I just… snuck. I slipped into the tunnel right before those gas line explosions, and I lucked out big time on that count. I thought I was going to have to hoof it away from some Army goons after getting into the subway tunnel, but no problems there. I stole the access card from one of the corporals in the rec room while he was playing video games, and I packed my crap and waited. When the guards shifted out, I snuck through. Bingo bango.” She tossed her bolt into the air and caught it again, flashing Kate a fake smile.
“And where’d you get the fancy clothes?” I asked, having noticed quickly that she was wearing a smaller version of the tactical outfits we had been given. “You steal those too?”
“I’m borrowing them. If they all survive the apocalypse, and they can find a soldier that fits into their extra-small petite version, then they can have ‘em back.”
Kate’s face was a hardened steel mom-face.
A “smile all you want but I brought you into this world I can take you out” kind of look.
Despite the fact that, you know, Kate hadn’t brought her into the world. She had saved her life a few times, though, so I assumed that counted.
“That’s not the part I was asking about,” she said, gritting her teeth.
Shit was getting dangerous. I began slowly inching back, away from the approaching nuclear fallout.
“Oh,” said Ky, knowing full well what she was asking. “The last bit?” The nonchalance—the forced nonchalance—was oozing from the kid.
I had never liked her more than I did now.
But I was still backing up.
Something very interesting about this wall, right here. Yep, definitely needed to get closer to check it out.
“Well… You see, Romeo here, he’s not something they’re interested in. And he’s pretty fast. So he and I have this system.” She reached into her bag, and took out a hard rubber ball—the kind that bounce forever when they’re thrown, and that dogs can never destroy.
“I throw this as hard as I can, and he runs after it. Thing is, he knows not to bring it back to me. So when I throw it, he takes it and runs in the direction I threw it. He waits for me to get to a safe place, and finds his way back. He’s really pretty smart.”
I spared a glance for the dark red dog, so valiantly described, and he stared back, one eye dripping dog-goo, and a slow drip of spittle falling slowly from one fang.
Yeah, he’s got ‘Macarthur Genius Grant’ stenciled on his forehead, alright.
He shook his head and the spittle flew into the air. Then, he reached his head into his nether-regions, as if daring me to comment.
“So, we slipped under the chain link fence on the outer perimeter—just took some imaginative lock picking on the Metro doors to get out of the tunnels—and it was dark, and foggy, and we just made our way slowly. Every time they got close, he’d bolt off in the other direction, and I’d hide somewhere. Eventually, we got to the terminal. It was all locked up, did you know that? Only a few of those things inside. We grabbed a snack from the concessions and sat in one of the first class lounges. I got lucky though, since you guys weren’t supposed to leave until tonight. Romeo actually woke me up. We could see the landing lights on the plane.”
“And? How did you get from the lounge onto the tarmac without going through those things?” Kate was deceptively calm.
Wow. I wonder what purpose that bolt on the wall is serving? I definitely needed to check.
“Well… that actually took some doing,” she admitted grudgingly, twirling her crossbow bolt in her hand again. “The drones were doing their thing, and I figured we could probably flank them for a couple minutes more, until the plane was louder. So we made our way to a jet way and down the stairs. Did you know that all the doors inside the airport open if you push them? The locks only work from the outside. That. That was luck.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t see any of those things between the Metro and when we saw you? You’re full of crap.” Kate was incredulous.
I checked her pistol hand again, just to make sure.
We both knew she was lying. The kid was too much like me.
I was so proud.
“No, we saw a few. Inside the terminal, not many. I only used a couple bolts. We had to get through a bunch between the Metro and the terminal, but the way they have those access doors and tunnels and crap set up, all that security—not as many as you’d think. We saw a few more on the tarmac, but… all in all, piece of cake.” She leaned back and tossed her bolt into the air again.
This time, the turbulence was heavy, and we were all tossed from our seats to the floor. Her bolt landed on the floor and rolled away. I picked it up from where I stood, now safely ten feet away from the two women.
Rhodes stumbled back after several seconds, the cabin shaking up and down.
“T-storm,” he said. “No weather radar up, just ran into it. We’re having to go around, but we need to refuel soon, and the colonel says we might have some damage on the tail section from the take off. He’s trying to find an airport now.”
I nodded, looking at the airman who was shadowing Rhodes. Behind both of them, the surviving sailor sat staring at the wall.
“Sorry guys, what are your names? I hate to be rude, but this kid was a little bit of a surprise on take off.”
The airman looked shocked but then shook it off.
“Granger. Steve Granger, airman first class.” Then he got the look. Oh sweet Jesus the look. I thought we were past that.
“I have seen all your movies, Mr. McKnight. Huge fan. I never believed the stuff about you. Not once. I knew you were innocent.”
Rhodes guffawed once, whether at the sentiment or at the facts.
I smiled, despite myself.
“Yeah, thanks buddy. But… technically speaking, I wasn’t actually innocent. I did ultimately end it for my wife. I just wasn’t the one that killed her. This virus did that. I just helped her move on, even though I didn’t know that was what I was doing. But I appreciate your faith.”
He looked momentarily confused, then smiled quickly as the plane dropped suddenly in another spot of turbulence.
Behind him, the sailor hadn’t moved. He sat against the bulkhead, staring forward, rocking slightly.
“He’s a little shook up,” said Rhodes, understating the facts slightly as he leaned back against the outer wall. Taking out a flip knife from somewhere in his kit, he began to dig underneath his nails, not sparing another glance.
“Granger, what happened at your airbase? What made you guys bug out?”
He lost his smile and shook his head.
“I don’t rightly know. I was racking out in the plane—we were on long shifts, and you know, it was just easier. All of a sudden, the colonels were in the cabin, running to the flight deck. The doors shut up, and I was by myself back here. They said those things had come from nowhere.”
“Where did they come from? Didn’t the base have walls?”
He shook his head. “Not on the lake side. It was like back there, in D.C.,” he said softly. “They came out of the water, the lake next to our runway. We didn’t have a fence or a wall. Just some towers for visual watch, but it was night, and we didn’t like to burn spots unless we had to ‘cause it just excites ‘em, so we couldn’t see.”
“You had refugees at the camp, didn’t you?” asked Kate softly, switching into her doctor voice. “Women and children and older
people?”
“Yes ma’am,” he replied. “We had a lot of those folks.”
He paused, as if fighting the memories.
“It didn’t go well for them. We couldn’t do anything. You know that, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just went quiet and turned to the sailor who was still rocking himself against the plane’s vibrating wall.
“I’m gonna go check on Mr. Watts—that’s his name, it’s on his uniform.”
“I’ll go with you, I might be able to help.” Kate said, her anger with Ky still affecting the tone in her voice.
I watched them move toward the young man, and turned to Ky.
“Seriously, what the hell?”
“You tried to leave me behind.”
“Of course we did, you idiot child. We were trying to keep you safe.”
“How’d that turn out for you?”
“Jesus, you’re infuriating.”
She screwed her face up and mimicked my voice in a childish, baby-voice.
There was no winning with her. Only escape.
Teenagers.
“I’m going forward,” I pointed at her abruptly. “Stay.”
She shot me her patented look and rubbed the sleeping dog’s head. He groaned and lifted a leg absently.
I grabbed the walls as the plane shook again, and moved forward, careful not to touch any of the controls or panels, and marveling at the massive gun barrels that protruded from the side of the machine. I never knew how impressive they were, although I had heard my brother talk about them for years.
A single 25mm Gatling style gun, which we had already used; a larger, 40mm Bofors cannon, and the mother of all aerial armaments—the 105mm cannon. The Gatling gun was like a shredder, tearing its victims to pieces. The 40mm cannon was a fiery rain, using incendiary rounds to make things go boom. And the 105mm—otherwise known on the ground as a Howitzer—could be fired at an average rate of 3-4 rounds per minute, delivering a massive payload for optimum disbursement. My brother had taught me well.